Sune's Chosen Ch. 02

Mikhail was more nervous than any other time in his life. The guard that had halted him in front of the Dancing Rose was imposing, standing two heads taller and half again as wide with thick, veiny muscles. The guard opened the door and stepped in for a moment, leaving the other guard, a muscular woman, to eye him suspiciously.

"Ye know," she said with a strangely dwarven accent, "the wee elf yer lookin' for might be fun for a night, but ye ought to seek me out some time." She curled her arm, flexing her bicep that dwarfed his own. "I'll show ye things nary an elf could e'er dream of."

"I am certain," Mikhail said, almost choking on his words. Her eyes flashed hungrily and she licked her lips, then touched her breast, which looked to have been augmented magically to match her muscular torso.

"The Lady Lura Darklust," the male guard said, reappearing and holding the door open wide. Mikhail's heart leapt into his throat when he looked at the stunning image of Lura walking out to meet him.

"My lady," he said breathlessly. The young man dipped into a low bow, holding out his hand, and, in it, the red tinged white rose with a black stem, thorns and all. Her fingers played over his hand before taking the delicate rose.

Lura looked upon him, smiling to herself though her face remained stoic. He was very well dressed, with a crisp, white tailored shirt with a high, stiff collar, and fine tailored black pants. His shoes were shined to perfection, and she delighted in his medium length sandy hair, imagining her fingers would feel wonderful gliding through it. "Look at me, Mikhail," she said, and he rose immediately.

She pricked the end of her finger with a long thorn and held it aloft between them, both watching as a thick dollop of dark blood rose on her digit. He seemed about to protest, but she halted him by bringing the finger to her extended tongue. The metallic taste of her own blood sent a chill down her drow spine, reminding her of other courtship rituals she had joined with other females in her homeland. With her tongue holding the drop of blood in a small bowl, she came forward, smearing the lifeblood on Mikhail's lips, staining them red, and kissing him deeply, sharing the taste with him.

His mouth felt electric, and despite the most unusual act, he understood that it held some sort of meaning for the drow. Mikhail had always found elven women to be a most exotic flower, one that he had long desired to pluck, but, hitherto, had not the chance, despite his almost constant study of elven mating ritual and customs.

"With the sharing of my blood, you are my suitor, for tonight at least," she explained. "I will expect you to treat me accordingly."

"I would not dream of anything less," he said, hurriedly. Smiling, she wrapped her hand around his bicep, and, to her delight, led her to a closed carriage.

"You are full of surprises," she said, smiling coyly at him as she sat very close to him.

"For a beauty such as yourself, anything," he said with complete honesty. She believed him, too. Lura felt like she could tell him to bring her a chest full of gold and he would find a way to do it.

"Relax," she said, realizing that the not-so-smooth ride of a carriage over cobblestones was making her breasts bounce in a very provocative manner. She crossed her arms over her chest to alleviate. "I already agreed to accompany you, so just relax and be yourself."

He smiled at her. "Forgive me, you are just so stunning, I cannot help myself." She smiled and let the matter drop, leaning her shoulder against his.

They arrived shortly after leaving the Hunter's Gate. In the distance to the north, she could make out the treeline of the Moonwood, and to the south she could still see the climbing pillars of cooking smoke. The sun was almost gone, now, and the sky was painted brilliant shades of pink, red, and orange.

"Your Lady smiles upon our festival," Mikhail said as he helped her out of the carriage. Lura looked up and smiled, appreciating the play of colors on the clouds. It did, indeed, look like a brilliant mane of red hair cast over the sky.

"She and Sharess are close," Lura said, "so I am unsurprised. Let us enjoy the revelry, my dear, and indulge ourselves."

Mikhail extended his arm and she hooked her hand around it again, as he led her to the bonfire. To her delight, she found that much of the ground had been covered in some sort of magical flooring, extending out for several yards from the bonfire, and she could walk with ease over it in her heels. They exchanged greetings with several of Mikhail's colleagues, all servants of Sharess, and Lura even saw some of her fellow Sunites, who she greeted with kisses and hugs.

The sun fell away from the sky, leaving inky darkness, speckled with twinkling stars, a full Selûne, as well as her tears, and blotted with sparse clouds. The music sprang up immediately, as bards and minstrels came to life, singing and playing rousing tunes and slow, melodic, almost sad ballads.

In the night, Mikhail realized, was where Lura was at her grandest. Her skin, obsidian, gave her an almost ghostly quality as the whites of her eyes, red irises, and white hair shone in the moonlight. Even her red gown seemed to hover on its own, and in some of Lura's more daring dancing, Mikhail thought he had glimpsed more than he was intended to see.

Or perhaps not, he thought to himself. She is a Sunite, after all, and likely would shed her clothing for him if he played his cards right. But that was not the goal, he reminded himself. He held her in higher regard than a one night fling, though the prospect of such adventure added to the growing tension in his fine pants that her gyrations on him had caused.

Everything was going magnificently, Mikhail thought, until an unwelcome guest moved in on his territory.

"Back away, small man, and let a real man dance with the drow." The fellow was tall and thick, much like the doorman at the Dancing Rose had been, but hairier, with an unbuttoned tunic that revealed thick chest hair and a full beard that reeked of too much honey mead. Lura looked at Mikhail, waiting to see how he would respond. Would he prove himself worthy, or would he back away, cower like a frightened dog.

"The lady is with me," Mikhail said, his voice firm, but with a trace of fear. The big man was reaching for Lura, though, in an effort to seize her hips. With no other option, Mikhail grabbed the man's hand and pulled him away with all his might.

Surprised, the big man did stumble, but quickly regained his balance, and the surrounding revelers stopped what they were doing to watch. With a growl, the big man lunged, a heavy fist diving for Mikhail's head, but the smaller, more agile man ducked and sidestepped. Roaring, the big man charged headlong in a tackle, but before he could reach Mikhail, Lura intervened.

A bolt of hot, divine magic coursed from her arm into the big fellow, sending him sprawling to the ground. It was not ordinary for a spell from Sune to be used in such a way. The heat was meant to be sensual, to warm a lover's loins and to enhance climax. Lura herself was surprised at the effectiveness of the spell, and several onlookers pointed and gasped at the thick bulge in the big man's pants and growing wetness as he ejaculated uncontrollably any and all seed he had stored for the night.

Mikhail looked at her with astonishment and humor. "You should call that spell 'Uncontrollable Orgasm,'" he said, and Lura, struck by the absurdity of the notion and the sight before her, could not help but laugh out loud.

"Come," she said, removing her footwear. "Let us find a more comfortable place to relax."

He followed her eagerly as she lead him away from the revelry. The bonfire burned high and bright into the night, but Lura led Mikhail far away from it. As they passed the limit of the firelight, they witnessed several couples and groups wrapped around eachother in the throes of lovemaking and sexual exploration. As Sunites go, there is little that they would not do for sexual gratification, and, being drow, Lura could was scarcely surprised by some of the things they passed. Mikhail, though, was shocked and, it seemed, curious.

She saw a man being taking by a woman with a long, thick phallus strapped to her waist, something she herself had done with several drow males. Mikhail indicated a human woman thrusting against a female halfling, and, upon closer inspection with her magic sensitive eyes, Lura noticed that the human had modified her sex so that her clit had transformed into a penis, complete with a set of testicles that all hung just above her sodden sex. The halfling looked as if she were in the Seventh Plane of Heaven. A horse whinnied in the distance, followed by an exuberant moan and several cheers.

"Was that..." Mikhail started.

"Ignore it," Lura said, taking him into the darkness outside the firelight. "Sit with me."

She laid down, enjoying the soft grass beneath her skin and thin gown, and she curled onto her side, facing Mikhail as he laid, propped on his elbow and facing her with a smile. Thanks to the enchantments woven into her gown, she knew that her breasts, despite the daring, almost uncouth cut of her neckline, were covered and secure. Her thigh, on the other hand, was quite bare, a point emphasized by a cool night breeze dancing across her bare, obsidian skin.

Mikhail noticed too, she realized, as his gaze darted down every now and then. Deciding to milk the attention, she curled her leg up, leaving the slit of the gown behind as her leg, bare all the way up to the swell of her bottom, was revealed in the darkness of night.

"Your skin is beautiful," he said, realizing he had been caught. "I can scarcely see it in the night, though."

"A pity," she said. "Had you elven eyes, the darkness would have posed no barrier to your viewing pleasure."

"Aye," he said. "You know, I have studied elven culture, namely the area of courtships and mating, all my life, and only now have I ever had a chance to be close to one."

"All these fair-skinned elves are prudish and haughty," Lura said, almost spitting the declaration. "They know not a decent opportunity when it is presented to them, and I would be surprised if they even could frig themselves properly."

"It is oxymoronic to hear such language from such a beautiful elf," Mikhail said.

"Drow," she said, her ire momentarily raised. "Don't insult me so."

"My apologies," he said, "I meant no disrespect."

"Of course," she said, pleasantly. She leaned closer, her breasts coming dangerously close to her shirt as she began to unbutton it. "You need to loosen up a bit."

"Lura..." he said, feeling her fingernails trace over his sparsely haired chest, up to the hollow of his throat.

"Shh," she said, coming forward to kiss his jaw, then down his neck. The drow grinned as his breathing went ragged and his body tensed at her touch. She relished in his taste: slightly salty from the sweat of dancing, and altogether male. It excited her, and a subtle knot began to form in her loins as she came closer to him.

"Lura, no," he said, pushing her away suddenly. Her eyes flared dangerously. "Please," he said, put a hand on her bare arm. "Believe me, this is all that I could ever want, but I would not cheapen the memory by using you as a single night's diversion."

"A single night?" she asked. "You underestimate your skill, I'll wager."

"That is not what I mean," he said. "Granted, all my knowledge on lovemaking has come from several clumsy bouts and books, but that is not my point. You are more than that. A one night stand is something for a tavern wench or a common courtesan. You are a bard of Sune, a noble drow maiden, and a beautiful woman. I would not cheapen you so."

For perhaps the first time in her life, Lura felt butterflies in her stomach. Truly, Mikhail's words had touched her, and she began to regret the sometimes harsh ways she would treat him in the Market. She realized, too, that no man or woman had ever thought so highly of her as to push her away when her sensual advances would make them quiver in lust. "Mikhail..." she said quietly.

"Please, I just want you to understand," he said to her, but she put her mouth to his to stem the flow of any more senseless words. Her kiss burned into his mouth, searing into him at once her understanding and her sudden need.

"I do, Mikhail," she said, her lips moving against his as she spoke. "This will not be a one night ordeal, you have my word."

There was a pause as he looked into her eyes, saw her honesty, and the truth of what was happening. Never had he expected a monogamous relationship with her, just that she not see this night as a one night affair, that he would be there for her, act on her behalf, and all things expected of a suitor. He knew that she, being a Sunite, would have many lovers, men and women alike, and all that he could ever want was that she be close to him.

His kiss was passionate and needy as he plunged his tongue between the sensually gold-flecked drow lips. She fought back, her tongue skillfully weaving around his inexperienced and clumsy tongue. Eventually, the drow rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She felt keenly the bulge in his fine pants as it pressed against her bare sex. Lura kissed away from his mouth, again to his jaw and neck, then the hollow of his throat, where she nipped and licked.

He felt her unbutton more of his shirt, and felt her breasts hanging in her gown, the erect nipples within poking through and scraping against his now bare flesh. She kissed his chest, her tongue swirling around the sparse hairs as she moved for his nipples. Her tongue swirled around them and she suckled lightly, sending spikes of pleasure that Mikhail had never before felt.

Lura admired his almost elven body, with taut, compact musculature, and kissed over sparsely haired abdominal muscles, grinning as she licked around his navel and began undoing his pants. She looked up at him as his hands came to rest on her obsidian shoulders, and he bit his lip when his pants slid down, revealing, to her delight, a well-endowed member. She looked upon it with awestruck eyes, surprised that such a hefty companion could hang from a slender man.

"Is it ok?" he asked her, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Oh Mikhail," she said, looking from his erection to his face. "It's perfect. It's...well...it's big!" She wrapped her fingers around it, barely able to get them completely around, and started stroking him. A low, throaty moan came from his lips as he laid his head on the grass. She licked her lips, grinning, and opened her mouth. Slowly, she circled her tongue around the head of the cock, paying special attention to the bottom of the head, knowing it would be sensitive to her ministrations.

After her saliva had coated his head, she stroked the length, spreading it all around, before putting the thick head into her mouth, She sucked lightly for a moment before gliding her lips and tongue down the length. Halfway, she stopped and slid back up, releasing the shaft for her hand to stroke. She looked at his face, and his eyes were shut. "Look at me," she said, her voice throaty and husky. He did so immediately, and she locked her eyes with his as her mouth descended again, halfway, further, and to the base, where his bare skin met her nose and lips. All the while, she stared him in the eyes, even as tears formed in hers from suppressing her gag reflex.

"Lura!" he shouted, the sensation overwhelming him. She broke eye contact and started gliding the shaft in and out of her mouth, her hand complimenting the motion. Lura felt him tense in her mouth, and then, to her delight, felt long streamers of his seed flowing into her mouth. She swallowed most of it, but kept some on her tongue. She rose up from his swollen member and kissed him, swirling his seed around in his mouth. He did not shy away, and her delight was increased when he swallowed.

"I apologize," he said. "I came too early."

"I am a servant of Sune," she said. Her fingers grasped his cock and she spoke a short couplet. Immediately, he felt reinvigorated, as if his libido has been put into overdrive. "Do not forget."

"Never again," he said. His hands traveled up her flanks, to the sides of her breasts. Without being told what to do, he cupped them, massaging them and grinding his palm over her painfully erect nipples.

"Have you ever tasted the juice of a woman's nectar?" Lura asked him, her voice a purr.

"Once," he said. "It was foul."

"You have never tasted an elf's, then," she said. "Much less a drow's. I assure you, my nectar is quite sweet."

"I would do anything you ask of me," he said.

"Then you will eat me." Her drow nature began to grow in prominence at the prospect of making this human submit to her whim. She straddled him and knee-walked her way up his body until her nexus was hovering over his face with the thin veil of her gown blocking her moist fruit.

He could smell her aroma so clearly! It was heady, like the scent of a fine wine, a blood red one, he thought. Despite his first, miserable experience, he salivated at the prospect. She pulled the veil of her gown away and to the side, and he looked up into her dark lips. It was glistening even in the darkness of night, and he noticed that her entire pubic mound seemed to sparkle with her nectar.

Without waiting for her to lower her sex onto his face, he put his hands on her hips and lifted his head, his lips latching onto the petals of her sex with eagerness. The taste! His tongue was on fire, tantalized by the sweetness of her juice as he drank it in, swallowing all that he could, even as his cheeks and chin became damp with it. Mikhail parted her innermost folds, lapping at them eagerly, until at last his tongue came to her clit. The petite button of arousal was familiar to him, for his studies had taught him that this was the epicenter for many orgasms.

Lura moaned loudly, huskily into the cool night air. His tongue was crude and brutish, but she did not care, not at a time like this. She relished in his attentions, and when his tongue started hammering at her clit, she bucked her hips madly. The drow leaned back, her hands on his abdomen as she ground her face against his mouth and his tongue hammered against her clit. Lura's long, sharp nails dug into his skin, and he didn't even cry out as she felt his blood trickle over a finger. That sensation, coupled with his relentless licking, sent her over the edge. Her canal clenched on nothing as a small amount of her arousal spurt onto his cheek. She quivered and shook atop him until she had to pull her sex off his relentless tongue.

He was delighted, recognizing her orgasm the instant it took place, and only lamented that her ejaculate did not go into his mouth. Mikhail was surprised, though, when she scrambled down to kiss him viciously, licking and sucking up all of her essence in the process, wantonly tasting her own arousal. Then, time slowed. She was straddling him, her weeping sex hovering over his thick, long member as she looked again into his eyes. Pulling herself up, she never broke eye lock as she straddled him upright now on her knees. Slowly, Lura untied the halter at her neck, and the crimson garment fell languidly, revealing her perfectly round breasts, topped by dark peaks that stood hard in the cool air. She touched them, her fingers tracing the circumference of their generous swell. So unlike the elves he had met, her breasts were the size of a human's D-cup. He reached for them, his hands joining hers, before the fell down and grasped his rigid member.

Slowly, he watched herself lower, until he felt the hot, wet moisture of her needy sex against the head of his member. Then, his world abruptly shot into motion as her canal sucked his endowment inside. The sensation was unlike any he had felt before, and he could only lay and watch as she took his entire length and girth into her.